You Play My Heart Like a Fiddle
by GotMyNameInLights
Summary: The inspiration for this fanfic was this Sherlock fanvideo done by Lemon Swordfish on Youtube. Here is the link: /watch?v RNQXIO8GNT8 I hope you guys like it. More to come soon! Please review and favorite! :) Lots of Hugs & Jazz Hands, Cheyenne
1. Chapter 1

I place my keys in the bowl next to the door as I walk into the living room of 221B Baker Street. I am absolutely exhausted from my day in surgery, as I had three close calls and one patient, unfortunately, died on the operating table. A day like that takes a toll on you, let me tell you. At least I could tell it was going to be quiet for the next few hours. When I walked in Sherlock was on the couch with his hands steepled, his usual position when he goes to his mind palace.

Tossing my coat on the back of my chair next to the fireplace, I take a good long look at the detective. His eyes are the most amazing color. Ice blue mixed with bright greens and flecks of gold scattered throughout. His cheekbones could cut glass. His raven colored curls fell softly against his forehead. The lines on his forehead were etched in concentration. God, he truly is beautiful.

I reluctantly stand and trod towards the bathroom to take a shower. As the water slides over my skin, I begin to think about life. Specifically my life with Sherlock. I really do owe him so much. He cured my psychosomatic limp. He brings excitement into my life daily. He is bloody brilliant in every aspect of the word. We have been living together for the past three years, and I really couldn't be happier. Or more confused.

See, from the moment I met Sherlock, I could tell there was some chemistry between the two of us. I thought I had imagined it then, but now I know I didn't. He is my best friend in the world, but I truly wish he was more. Dare I think I am in love with him?

I towel off and slip into my pajamas, after which I duck my head into the living room to see how Sherlock is doing. Still in his mind palace. Figured as much. I put my slippers on and plod to my bedroom. Collapsing on the bed, I inhale the fresh scent of the fabric softener that Sherlock bought on one of his rare trips to the store. It smells of rose and peaches. I do believe I like it. I'll have to ask Sherlock what it's called so I can pick up more on my next trip. As I lie in bed, I think of all of the crazy adventures that Sherlock has taken me on. That I was crazy enough to go on. I remember the first time he took my hand to rush through the streets of London. The butterflies I get in my stomach whenever he smiles in my general direction. Great. Now I know how Molly feels.

The last thing I think of before drifting off is how he practically killed the burglar that hurt Mrs. Hudson, and wondering what he would do if anyone ever hurt me.

* * *

I could read John like a book. He thought he was in my mind palace, which admittedly I was. But I wasn't solving a case like he thought I was. I was thinking of all the times that John had stuck his neck out for me. The way he looks at me even now, with a look of admiration and…something else in his eyes. I wish I didn't realize what it was. Sometimes it must be better to not be me. To not be so observant. But the science of attraction is incredibly simple, and John was showing all the signs. Dilated pupils, elevated pulse, and the lot. And the weird thing is…so am I. But he never notices. And he most likely never will.


	2. Chapter 2

It is about two-thirty in the morning when I think that I just can't stand it anymore. I can't just sit here, on the couch, doing nothing. It's boring, even with my mind palace.

I walk over to the window and take my violin case which was in its usual position between the couch and the fireplace. I rosin up my bow, place the instrument under my chin, and play a note on each string experimentally. I adjust the tune of the G string with great care, and play again. Ah. Perfect. Now….what to play? My mind is far too cluttered at this point with thoughts of John and his puppy dog eyes and his adorable half smile and his beautiful blonde hair and…good God, FOCUS Sherlock!

For all the years I have played the violin, I have never once learned a love song, or anything remotely close to one. But, unless I want to walk around humming some Taylor Swift nonsense, I'd better figure one out. Not too lovey-dovey though…..(lovey-dovey?! God, what's happening to me?!). Oh. OH! I've got it. It's a song that I vaguely remember hearing on the radio the day John and I went to the bank on the decoding case. Perfect. I adjust the instrument, and I begin to play.

* * *

I'm in Afghanistan again, full uniform, helping the dying soldiers on the battlefield. I heard a gunshot, and I rush over, training kicking in. But I don't see a wounded soldier lying on the ground. I see Sherlock, lying in a pool of crimson blood. And who else was holding the gun but Moriarty. I look at Sherlock's terrified expression, the sheer fear of dying in his eyes is enough to burn my heart out. He grips my hand and exhales his last breath. He's gone. I place a kiss on his forehead, and the tears that I was holding back come silently streaming down my face, landing on his navy blue scarf. I look up at Moriarty, and the next thing I know, the searing pain of a bullet in my calf has me screaming.

I bolt awake, heart pounding, sweat pouring down my face, and slowly begin to realize that it was just a dream. It was just a dream, John. Just a dream. Sherlock is fine, he's probably still in the living room, tucked safely away in his mind palace.

And that is when I register the sweet tune of a violin coming from the living room. It's not a tune that I recognize…..at least not from Sherlock playing it. I recognize it from somewhere though…but where? Wait a minute….is he playing "Your Love is My Drug"? No…..no he couldn't possibly be. Sherlock doesn't know anything but classical music. But sure enough, the chorus to the Ke$ha song is right there, ringing through 221B with a sense of elegance and refinement that John hadn't realized could be injected into a Ke$ha song. But, wait a minute…the only time that Sherlock had played emotional music before was when Irene Adler "died". If he is playing a love song then…..has she come back? A surge of burning jealousy courses through his veins at the thought of it. It was the likely solution, however. Well Watson, you're never going to find out if you stay here. Move it.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sherlock?" I mumble sleepily from the doorway. Sherlock whips around to face me. Huh, apparently he hadn't heard me come in. "John, I….I was just…..uh… practicing." Did the detective just stumble over words when he usually talks a mile a minute without using so much as an improper pronoun?

"Yeah, I heard that," I say with a smirk. "What did you think?" If I didn't know any better, I would say that Sherlock was desperate for my approval. "I really liked it, Sherlock. But I don't understand something. I thought you didn't know anything but classical." "Why would you think that?" "I don't know. I guess I've just never heard you play anything else." "Well, tonight I…discovered something, and I guess this was a way to get it out of my system." Crap. I guess I was right. "Is Irene back?" "What? Oh, no! God, no." "Then, what is it, Sherlock?"

He just looks at me. I wish I could call it longing, but I know better. God, do I wish it was longing. It is then that I truly realize that I am deeply, deeply in love with this man. The world's only consulting detective. My best friend. And I am in love with him. Shit.

"John, ….jeez, where do I go with this? How do I even begin to say something like this? Just…..sit down, John." We both walk over to the lumpy brown couch that has been here since I moved to the flat. It must have been Sherlock's before. After we sit down, Sherlock takes my hand in his. My eyes widen in surprise, but I regain my composure before Sherlock can put his piercing eyes on me again.

"What is it, Sherlock? Tell me. Whatever it is, you can tell me, okay? I won't laugh at you." "John, I….that song….that song was for you. Except, you were never meant to hear it." Um….is this going where I think this is going? My pulse quickens just at the thought. No, no of course not, don't be stupid, John! Sherlock would be ashamed of you. "I don't know what you mean." "John….I…I….god, I don't know what to say to get you to understand this. So, you know what…sod it." And as soon as he said it, Sherlock caresses my cheek and brings my lips to his. I pull back in surprise. "Sherlock! What….what are you doing?!" "John, I have been crazy about you from the moment we met, and I know you feel the same way." "Yeah, yeah I do, but…" "If you do, then what's the problem?"

I hesitate at that. "Sherlock…..don't get me wrong here, alright? I really like you, maybe even love you, but I don't want to lose you again. When I saw you jump off that building, when I saw you lying on the ground, covered in blood….it nearly killed me, Sherlock. I can't go through that again, especially if we do this. Can you promise me that you won't do something like that again?" Sherlock stiffens and, looking into my tearful eyes. And that is when I see that he has tears in his as well. Sherlock is crying, or very nearly, anyways. "No, I can't." He takes my face in his hands and looks deep into my eyes, trying to make me understand. "But that doesn't mean that I won't do anything in my power to make sure I never have to leave you again."

I lean forward, closing the distance between us, and touch my lips to the detectives. His slightly chapped lips taste like lemon tea and the chocolate scones that I had left out on the table from breakfast. I lace my fingers into his raven curls, pulling him closer to me. I can tell he has never kissed anyone before, as it is a little sloppy at first, but it doesn't take long for us to get into a glorious rhythm, lips moving against lips in perfect synchronization. His violin string-callused fingers travel along my jaw and grip my chin. I love him more than I can say, more than I can think, more than I could previously comprehend was possible. And yet it is. And I can tell that he feels the exact same. This is our first of many future kisses, and it is absolutely perfect.


End file.
